When Guinevere spotted them attempting to leave, she lunged forward, fury in her eyes. “I’m going to kill him. He shouldn’t be here! I’m going to kill him!”
Her words were sharp, her eyes bloodshot with anger. Chris stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Enough! He’s your son!”
“He isn’t!” Guinevere screamed, scratching at his face in a wild, desperate attempt to break free.
“Open your eyes!” Chris shouted back, his voice desperate. “See clearly—he’s the son you gave birth to! He’s one of the Ford’s!”
At those words, Guinevere paused, as if a sudden realization washed over her. Her expression shifted slightly, a twisted smile forming on her lips. Slowly, she began to walk toward Chris. He seemed to sense the change, and with it, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes. He instinctively took a few steps back.
Despite his age, Chris was still a handsome, charming man. Even now, there were many women who would fall for him, drawn by his charisma. He and Wendy had been a loving couple for years, and no one had ever questioned their bond, even after everything they had been through.
But there was one exception…
Guinevere’s laugh echoed, maddening and wild, as she looked at Chris. “He is, indeed, a child of the Ford family.” The maids stood nearby, watching in silence, their faces filled with fear as they tried to make sense of what was unfolding.
Chris felt a tightening in his chest, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He rubbed his forehead, feeling as though his mind might snap under the pressure. “Everyone, go upstairs now. Don’t come down unless I say so,” he instructed firmly, his voice carrying an edge of command.
“Yes, sir,” the maids replied, quickly scattering.
Chris couldn’t let Wendy come downstairs—not now, not when Guinevere had completely lost control. He knew that, in her current state, she might say something irreparable.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to Guinevere, trying to keep calm. “Calm down, please. Didn’t we have an agreement? Do you really need to…”
“Am I the one who broke the promise?” Guinevere interrupted, her voice rising in a sharp, frantic cry. “It was Weston! I need him to come and see me now!” She broke down further, her voice a pitiful wail. “Why isn’t he here yet? Is he with Stella?”
Her words were becoming a jumbled mess of confusion and anger. “But she’s dead! Who else would he be with?” Her hands tugged at her hair in frustration as tears stained her face. All the beauty that once defined her seemed to vanish in that moment, leaving behind only raw desperation. “How can he treat me like this?! Didn’t he say we would get married?”
It was as if she had completely forgotten their history—forgotten the painful past that had led to this moment. Even Chris couldn’t make sense of her spiraling emotions. He approached her slowly, trying to bring her back to reality.
“Guinevere, calm down. Don’t hurt Zachary. He’s your son!”
“I know he’s my son!” she muttered under her breath, her eyes still wide with manic intensity. “He’s mine… and Weston’s. I won’t hurt him. With him here… Weston will come back to me, won’t he?”
Her eyes met his for a brief, fleeting moment, bloodshot and filled with confusion. She was lost, caught between her delusions and reality.
But Chris, seeing through her fragile state, remained unmoved. He couldn’t trust her words anymore. “Weston will be home soon. Calm down. You can talk to him later,” he said firmly, trying to steady her.
Guinevere hesitated, tugging at her hair once more. It was as if the fog of her emotions was starting to lift, and she seemed to be regaining some clarity. “What did I do?” she asked, her voice soft, almost childlike now.
Chris let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, but he also knew that this madness needed to stop. “You lost control,” he said gently. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just the aftermath of giving birth. We’ll see a doctor soon, and I’ll make sure Weston stays with you.”
Guinevere nodded slowly, lowering her head in submission, not daring to meet his gaze. “I understand,” she murmured.
Her expression, however, was anything but calm. Beneath her lowered gaze, there was a flicker of mockery, a hint of cruel amusement that she quickly suppressed. For a moment, Chris wondered if he had imagined it, but he wasn’t sure anymore.
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